Fathers Day

Fathers Day A melancholia has crept into this day,. and into the dreams of the days that follow. To bed I went, knocked out by the final blow to this friendship, a friend I just do not know. A friend who just cannot seem to find mellow. I awoke to little hope, explanations ?, no way was I to feel the presence of my little Girls as thoughts of them , through my brain swirls. For a brief moment, the phone rings, few words, from my youngest, it was Melanie, that I heard offer an acknowledgement of my fatherly position. Silence comes to my ear, I wonder, I have suspicion that maybe I just do not deserve this to be my day. A father – they may feel and rightly so – no way ! Lift that bale, tote that barge, drive that van and so, for Joyce, for Share, I do the best I can. Supper I make and eat on my own. From family, I am left alone and so, along the river I walk. A few humans – homeless – I talk with for a minute or two, leave the Pitt, on my way, say goodbye to Spirit and all her cronies as thoughts of the phonies I have come to know as onward, towards home I go to a night of movies on television, thoughts of my Children, - in my vision, my dreams – and all I did not give to my, Beautiful Girls, of myself. A little man, a thoughtless elf is all that I seem to be, to live. Fathers Day, a day for real fathers, not a day for a name, for men like me and this is what today has me see as to why it is empty of my Daughters B. J. “A” 2 June 21st 2004